


Taking Control

by Tessa54



Category: The A-Team (TV)
Genre: Control Issues, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Free Will, Handcuffs, M/M, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:02:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24321010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tessa54/pseuds/Tessa54
Summary: Templeton Peck hated to give up control.Control was his mainspring. In one way or another, it was the story of his life to date.
Relationships: H. M. "Howling Mad" Murdock/Templeton "Faceman" Peck
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	Taking Control

Templeton Peck hated to give up control.

He had never had much control over his life and he guarded what little he enjoyed now jealously.

Control was his mainspring. In one way or another, it was the story of his life to date.

Raised in an orphanage; his very existence as a child was dictated by the nuns and priests. When, as a young man, he had gone to College, he had experienced his first heady taste of freedom. Sure, there were lectures to attend; assignments to complete; but he had free time, Frat. Brothers – and he had enjoyed his control over himself. Until he met a girl, fell in love and gave up his freedom voluntarily. Until she left him flat, without a word. And he had no control over that.

Shell-shocked and rudderless, he dropped out of College and joined the Army where, in training and as a junior officer, his life was controlled by The Chain of Command: go here; do this; eat now; sleep now; do as you’re told. Sniper training was easy. Just another form of control: control yourself; control your breathing; control your body; focus; hit the target; take it out. Self-control. Same with Parachute training, and Special Forces training where they taught him to be a killer: all self-control.

As a member of Smith’s A Team in ‘Nam, as XO and Supply Officer, he had needed to control the missions as far as he could: the Supply part was easy – controlling his gung-ho Commander a little more challenging. And nothing had changed much out in the World – still in the A Team; still doing missions; still having to produce the supplies and run the scams; still being ordered around by Hannibal and trying to rein back the Colonel when he got too big a dose of ‘The Jazz.’

But the missions weren’t constant and, for the first time in his life, he had a private life when he wasn’t working. A part of his life to call his own. And he loved it. For the first time in his life he had a little privacy, a few possessions, and contact with people who weren’t involved with the Job… Girls. Lots of girls. No strings, and never more than a night, a few days, a couple of weeks at most, because missions always, always, came first.

More freedom than he had ever known in his whole life. More control than he’d ever had in his whole life.

And now he was being asked to give up control. Voluntarily. Asked, not ordered… Could he do that…? If he did it, could his life ever be the same again…?

He had known Murdock for nearly half of his life. They connected straight off the bat in ‘Nam and had soon become best friends. They were like bread and butter, ham and eggs, Huck and Tom – find one, and you’d find the other. Murdock and Temp had stuck together through thick and thin, through good times and bad… although, if he was being honest, Templeton would say through really bad times, times that were not quite so bad and okay times, like now. And that had never changed, even back in the World.

Gradually, Murdock had needed to be in the VA less, he had started spending some time with his best friend in the downtime between missions, and friendship had turned into something more. A relationship? Maybe. Templeton wasn’t sure how to classify it, really.

Neither of them was ‘gay’; both ‘dated’ girls, but no girl could understand either of them, and so they turned to each other. Inevitably, their relationship had become physical, but it was an equal and relaxed one: no power struggles; no dominance issues – just comfort and pleasure given freely and received gratefully.

No, Templeton had never felt that he had lost control even when Murdock was ‘on top’ and, technically, in control.

Until tonight. Until right now…

It had all started out innocently enough.

They had returned from the mission around noon yesterday, both slightly worse-for-wear [which was normal] and pretty much exhausted after a long drive. All that they felt able to do was to shower, eat their Chinese takeout and collapse into bed where they fell into a deep, refreshing sleep. They slept late.

After a soup and sandwich lunch Templeton, clad only in a T-shirt and tracksuit pants, had been happy to recline on the couch and watch a College Football game on TV. Not so Murdock. Murdock, fully dressed, had bounced into the living room with his usual unlimited energy and shaken the car keys in Templeton’s face, causing him to groan quietly.

“I feel the need for ice cream, Facey, and you’re all out. Can I take the car?” he had said.

“Sure, buddy, just…”

Murdock had cut off the usual mantra. “I know, I know, lock her up outside the store and go easy on the clutch. I know. I will be back before you know it. Oh, and Face,” he had winked, “my turn tonight.”

“Okay, fine. That’s good…” but Templeton had been talking to himself because Murdock had already left.

The code. My turn tonight. Meaning that Murdock also felt the need for a little loving, and on his terms.

‘Well, that’s fine,’ Templeton had thought. ‘At least I won’t have to do all the work.’

The game failing to hold his interest, Templeton had drifted off to sleep…

… and had been awakened by the glorious aroma of grilling steak. It had been early evening judging by the low shafts of sunlight slanting through the windows, and the game had long since finished. The TV had been switched off and the radio had been tuned to a light classical station. He had padded into the kitchen to find the table neatly laid with cutlery and glassware, an opened bottle of red wine already breathing, and Murdock flipping fried potatoes at the stove.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty… another minute and I woulda had to come in there and yell at you,” Murdock had said cheerfully over Templeton’s mumbled apologies. “Well, now you’re up, Muchacho, make yourself useful. Pour the wine and toss the salad.”

They had dined simply on perfectly grilled medium rare steaks, golden chunks of potato - crisp on the outside and fluffy in the middle, just the way that Templeton liked them - good Italian bread and a salad; and finished with ice cream. They had lingered a long time, sipping the wine, Murdock, as usual, talking a mile a minute and making Templeton laugh. Eventually, Templeton had started to clear the table.

“No, Muchacho, leave that now. Go take your shower.” Murdock had pointed towards the bathroom. “I’ve put things in there for you to wear when you get out… my turn, remember?” he had said with a wink and a grin.

So Templeton had dutifully taken his shower, shaved, cleaned his teeth, put on the white silk boxers (which were a little too tight) and short royal blue silk robe that he found there and had emerged a short time later, hair still damp and tousled, to find that Murdock had already cleared the table.

“Go wait for me in the bedroom,” Murdock had called out from the living room where he was closing the curtains. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Temp had gone into the bedroom and looked around – Murdock had been busy in there. The room was pleasantly warm and lit by the golden light of several large scented candles scattered around the room. The bed itself was clothed only with the bottom sheet and half a dozen pillows, leaning against the headboard. The night stand on the left held the remains of the bottle of wine, two glasses, and what looked like a box of chocolates; but it was at the other night stand, the one on the right, that Templeton had looked with interest.

He had walked over for a closer inspection: lube; a bottle of what looked like massage oil; three rolled towels; and three plain white boxes. Murdock had stuck his head into the room on his way to the bathroom just as Temp had stretched out his hand to pick up one of the boxes…

“Ah, ah, ah! No peeking, Facey,” he had said sternly, as Templeton started guiltily and hastily withdrew his hand. “And I’ll know if you do. You just sit right there and be patient for a little while.”

Murdock had withdrawn and Templeton shrugged and seated himself on the edge of the bed, gazing at those boxes and trying to imagine what could be inside.

At the edge of his consciousness he had heard Murdock singing opera in the shower. Murdock always sang in the shower. Usually loudly. Occasionally out of tune. But not always opera: it was just as likely to be a Beatles classic, a hymn or the latest hit. Murdock was a law unto himself; an enigma wrapped in a conundrum. So, what was in those damned boxes? He had forced himself out of his reverie; forced himself to take notice of his surroundings.

‘Okay, so massage oil and lube.” He had sighed, “Maybe you _are_ going to be doing all the work. Well, that’s okay. And wine, he obviously wants wine…” Temp had forced his gaze away from those boxes, risen, and padded over to the other side of the bed. He had been pouring wine into the glasses when Murdock entered the room.

Murdock had closed the bedroom door with a solid ‘click’ and leaned against it, smiling gently, arms folded across his chest. His robe was the twin of the one Templeton was wearing, but in scarlet silk… in the flickering candlelight it sometimes appeared to be entirely black. As had Murdock’s deep brown eyes.

Temp had turned towards Murdock, smiling. “Just pouring the wine. Room smells great – what is that, caramel? So, you want me to give you a massage, huh? I can do that…”

Murdock had pushed himself off the door in one fluid movement. “C’mere, Face. Put that bottle down and come right over here,” he had said, moving towards the bed and indicating the space in front of him with a pointing finger.

An involuntary shiver had run down Templeton’s spine, but he had done as he was told. He had felt his heart rate speeding up as he stood on the precise spot indicated.

“So,” Murdock had growled, staring him in the eyes, “you think I want a massage? Well, maybe I do – maybe not. But it’s my turn and I will decide what I want, when I’m ready. And you, baby,” he smiled gently and reached out to stroke Temp’s cheek, “you wanna know what’s in those boxes, don’t you?” Templeton had nodded, mutely. “Yeah, I thought so… you can’t stand not knowing everything, can you, Facey?”

Templeton had tried to answer. He had taken a breath and opened his mouth to answer – but he was still being pierced by those molten chocolate eyes and no sound emerged… he shook his head, no, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away. Murdock had taken him by the shoulders and pushed him back and down until he was sitting on the edge of the bed before turning and picking up the boxes. He had handed the biggest one to Templeton.

“Here you go, Facey, these are for you to wear. Go ahead, open it up.” He had grinned widely as he made the offer, and then started to open the other two.

Templeton had weighed the box in his hands. It was heavy. He had taken off the lid and looked inside – and his heart almost stopped; grew huge and threatened to burst from his chest… “H-h-handcuffs, M-M-Murdock…? Y-y-you w-want m-me to wear…?” he had whispered before his voice failed him completely. He had taken a very deep breath before he tore his eyes away from the box in his shaking hands and looked back up at his friend. “But…”

Murdock had smiled broadly and shown him the contents of the other two boxes: a dildo about 8” long and thick enough that he could just get his fingers around it; and what looked like a rubber ball attached to a strap.

‘Oh, shit,’ Templeton had thought, ‘how much trouble am I in here?’ He had taken a few deep breaths; calmed himself. This was Murdock, after all. ‘He has the occasional fantasy, but he would never hurt you – just go along with it.’

He had taken another deep breath, swallowed hard, pulled up his best smile and thrust the box towards Murdock, who had taken it from him. “Okay, buddy, whatever you want. I’m game.” His arms were still outstretched. “Go ahead, Murdock. Snap ‘em on.”

Murdock had turned and put all three boxes back on the night stand. He had reached into the large box and pulled out the contents – four sets of padded handcuffs with keys in the locks. “Oh, no, Facey – you’ve missed the point.” He had pressed the cuffs into Templeton’s hands. “I’m not going to put these on you; I would never do that to you, Muchacho.” He had waved a hand and given Temp his sexy, crooked grin. “But I can’t say I don’t want you that way. And I wouldn’t say ‘No’ if you did it to yourself…”

“To…to myself…?”

Murdock had dropped onto the bed beside Templeton and put a long arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. “Face,” he had said gently “you’re so tense all the time. You need to relax. You need to let go, Muchacho. You could be on your knees, sending me to heaven; or I might be screwing your ass to the mattress; but I always feel like you’re behind us somehow, controlling things, watching, giving yourself a score out of ten.” He had squeezed Temp tight and used his free hand to turn his face, so that he was looking into his eyes. “You need to go where you can’t control things. Where you have no say in what happens to you. Where you can just feel and react. I can help you, Facey. And I want to help you, but only if you let me.”

“Okay,” Temp had whispered, mesmerised. “But what are you going to do to me?”

Murdock had sighed. “Well, that’s the problem, right there, Face. You want an itinerary. Well, it’s not going to happen. You’re not going to know. Hell, buddy, I don’t know – yet. I might stake you out and lick you all over until you scream for mercy. Or I might fuck your brains out. I might just lube up that dildo and stick it up your ass, turn it on, put that gag in your mouth - then go out to the living room and watch TV. I might ask you to give me a massage, or fuck _my_ brains out – or I might do nothing at all. I don’t know yet, Facey, because there _is_ no Plan here.” He had sighed again, and smiled gently. “ _You_ have to do this, baby. You have to _want_ to do it. I could make you, but I’m not gonna. It’s your decision. I want it – but I’m not gonna be upset if you can’t do it. Take a couple of minutes to think about it…”

Murdock had given Temp a quick squeeze then and stood up, walking around the bed to retrieve the glasses of wine.

Templeton had been gazing at the shackles in his hands, mind racing, breathing fast. ‘I can’t do this,’ he had thought. ‘No way! He has no idea what he’s asking… I can’t be helpless again… Not now. I have some control now… how can he ask me to give that up? I can’t. I won’t! But… but this is Murdock… Murdock would never do anything to hurt me… If I give up control… voluntarily… surrender… submit… Oh, God… can my life ever be the same again…?’

“Face…”

‘Can I do this? Oh God, oh God…’

“Face!” 

Templeton Peck looked up, startled out of his reverie. Murdock was standing in front of him, holding out a glass of wine.

“Put those things down, Facey. Forget the whole thing… Here, let’s just drink this wine and then…”

Face took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He swallowed hard. Then he smiled up at Murdock and looked him in the eyes. “No, it’s okay, buddy. I’m fine, really.”

He put the cuffs down on the bed beside him, then took up one and snapped it onto his right wrist. Still smiling, still keeping eye contact, he repeated the action with his left wrist, then both ankles before reaching out to take the glass of wine.

*********************

Templeton Peck, advertising executive, operated the remote lift-door and drove his silver grey Mercedes into the garage at the beach house. The red SUV was already parked there. Good, his partner was already home. He closed the lift-door and entered the house through the connecting door. It wasn’t locked. He shook his head, ruefully. “How many times…?” he growled softly, and then smiled to himself. Things would never change.

As he walked silently up the hallway he placed his car keys carefully into the Wedgewood bowl on the hall stand and put his briefcase neatly underneath. The SUV keys were thrown carelessly on top of the phonebook. He rolled his eyes, and put the errant keyring into the bowl beside his own. ‘One of these days…’ he thought. Passing through the living room, he shrugged out of his suit jacket, and laid it carefully over the back of the armchair. He checked his watch on his way to the kitchen – ten minutes before six. Not late, then. That was good. Real good. Couldn’t afford to be late tonight – not on a ‘My Turn Tonight’ night. No, Sir! Boy, something smelled good. He loosened his tie slightly as he approached the kitchen door and leaned against the jamb, arms folded across his chest.

He took in the scene before him. Obviously they were dining in here tonight. His nose was beguiled by the glorious aroma of grilling steaks. The table was neatly laid with cutlery and glassware, an opened bottle of red wine was already breathing, and Murdock was flipping fried potatoes at the stove. He cleared his throat. Murdock looked around with a cheerful smile.

“I didn’t hear you come in, Facey – still creeping around like a cat, huh? Well, now you’re here, Muchacho, make yourself useful. Pour the wine and toss the salad.”

Déjà vu.

Templeton walked towards the table, reached out for the salad servers and faltered as the thoughts exploded into his mind. ‘I have lived through this moment before… nearly 20 years ago. This moment – and what came after. The night I surrendered. The night I gave up my iron control over a huge part of my life and gave it into the keeping of this gentle, loving, crazy guy. I remember every second of it, as though it was happening right now…’

… and his breath caught in his throat as the past collided with the present.

*********************

_Face took a sip of the wine. The cuff dragging on his wrist was heavy, making his movements feel awkward. Murdock smiled down at him gently as he sipped from his own glass._

_“If you get too uncomfortable, Facey, if you need to stop at any time just give me the signal – you know? A2.”_

_Face nodded. “Yeah, okay. But I’ll be fine. Really. I trust you, buddy.” He took another gulp of the wine._

_Murdock reached out to take the wineglass from Face. He turned away and put both glasses on the nightstand. When he turned back, his gaze was smouldering. “Stand up, Face”. His voice was quiet, but it was an order, nevertheless._

_Face swallowed. ‘Oh, boy, here we go…,’ he thought, as he complied._

_“Take off that robe and give me the belt.”_

_His hands shaking slightly, Face obeyed, untying the broad silk belt and handing it to Murdock, then slipping the robe off his shoulders and dropping it to the floor behind him._

_Murdock slowly looked him up and down, appraisingly, and held out the belt. “Now this, Face. Blindfold. I’d like it, Muchacho, but I understand if you can’t do it.”_

_Face swallowed again, and looked into Murdock’s eyes. The warm loving expression he saw there took away any apprehension he might still have been feeling. “Okay,” he whispered. He took the silk belt, awkwardly because of the handcuffs dangling from his wrists, and tied it over his eyes._

_Murdock stepped forward then. Face could feel his body heat and hear his breathing. He was close. Very close. Almost touching. But not quite. He stayed there for a long moment and Face remained perfectly still, hearing his own blood roaring in his ears. Then Murdock reached out and pulled Face in tight for a gentle but thorough kiss, pressing against him, holding his head with one hand and running the other down his back, lightly, slowly, until it was caressing his buttocks through the silk boxers. Face could feel the gooseflesh rising on his skin and his heartrate accelerating even more as he started to become aroused._

_“Oh, baby, you’re so beautiful,” Murdock breathed into his mouth, before releasing him with a gentle squeeze and stepping back._

_“I want to see all of you, Facey.”_

_‘You’ve seen all of me before. You saw all of me this morning…,’ Face thought, rebellious for a moment. But only for a moment. ‘No, not like this… Never like this… Because this is it. Crunch time. This is surrender. This is where I truly give up control.’_

_“It’s okay, Murdock. I trust you,” he said determinedly, and then he reached down and slowly removed his final piece of armour. He could almost hear the_ ‘crack’ _as his carefully constructed emotional walls crumbled and crashed to the ground. He stumbled, and nearly fell, as the boxers caught on the shackles on his ankles, but then Murdock was there, strong arms around him, holding him up._

*********************

Templeton Peck smiled to himself as he tossed the salad and sliced the good Italian bread. He glanced appreciatively at the label as he poured the wine. Nice. A good year. Murdock was finally learning.

“What are you grinning at, Temp?” Murdock demanded as he placed the plates with the perfectly grilled medium rare steaks and golden chunks of potato - crisp on the outside and fluffy in the middle, just the way that Templeton liked them – on the table.

“Oh, nothing. Just wondering what you’ve got planned for later. ‘Your Turn Tonight’, remember?”

Murdock winked. “No itinerary, Face… Maybe I’ll break out the handcuffs …”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks go, as always, to my friendly daemon, DrimmsyDra.


End file.
